


Tiger's Trilogy

by Moira_Darling



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: F/F, Genderbending, Lesbian Character, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not Britpicked, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:55:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27544936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moira_Darling/pseuds/Moira_Darling
Summary: The first part to my trilogy genderbending and modernising ACDs canon Moriarty and Moran. Original adaptation, not based on BBC. I need beta readers to read this
Relationships: Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	Tiger's Trilogy

She opened her eyes and stared at the top of the barracks for a moment before rolling over and swinging her legs off the side of the bed. Rubbing a hand over her face, she reached out with her other hand and snagged a cigarette and her lighter from the bedside table. She lit the fag and took a long drag.   
She pushed the blanket back from her waist and stood, getting up and going to her trunk. She grabbed a fresh set of clothing and stepped into her boots before leaving the barracks to head to the showers. Outside of the barracks, she stopped to look out over the desert plains around the camp. She looked at the rising sun and took another drag of her cigarette.   
Waving at the guard on duty, she stepped into the showers and stripped down. She pulled the tie out of her hair and undid the braid that held it up through the night. She cranked the temperature setting to the hottest it would go and stepped into the spray. She took one last drag of her cigarette before she let her head fall back and let the steam dampen her face.  
*-*-*-*  
Moran was out and dressed by the time the men from her unit started trailing into the showers.  
“always up with the sun… We know snipers are supposed to be solitary, but don’t you take that a little too far, sweetheart?”   
One of the men tried to smack her arse as he walked past, but though better of it when she reached for her knife.  
She liberally sprayed her hair with hairspray before brushing and smoothing it back into a knot at the base of her neck.  
Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out and unlocked the screen.  
Location Notated Below. Five men. British convoy. 10000 per head.  
She tilted her head and deleted the message before putting the phone away.  
“Was that your lover boy?” one of the men laughed.  
“Are you kidding? The ice Queen couldn’t keep anyone satisfied for long enough to hold them down.”  
She started sticking bobby pins into the bun to further secure it.  
“Are you joining us in the rec hall for once?”  
“I have to practice.” She answered shortly.  
“I think you’re good enough.”  
“I don’t.” she gathered her bag and left the showers, marching back to the barracks.  
She shoved her back into her trunk and locked it before reaching under her bed and pulling out her rifle case. She undid the clasps and slowly raised the lid. There was a small smile on her lips as she looked over the polished black barrel and reached out to touch it.  
Quickly shutting and closing it again, she stood and grabbed her practice bag.  
She sent a quick message to her SO, informing him that she was going out to shoot targets before throwing her things in a jeep and driving out on the road leaving the compound.   
It was a short twenty minute drive out to the vantage point she was headed for. She parked the jeep behind some bushes, grabbed her case from the passenger seat, and hiked the rest of the way up the hill. She looked out over the road and noted that it was empty. She set the case down at her feet and reached into her pocket for a pair of Bluetooth headphones, turning them on before putting the buds in her ears. She pulled out her phone and opened the music app, hitting shuffle play and turning up the volume before crouching down and opening up her case.  
Setting up her rifle for the shot was a calming routine – something she had done hundreds of times before. She calculated the distance, the wind, the weather and loaded the gun before settling down to wait.  
She lit a cigarette and took a long drag as she lay on her stomach. She stared out over the road, and breathed out. She hummed along with her music and relaxed. 

She watched the jeep approach over the horizon through her scope. The dust cloud was growing as it drew nearer, and she held her finger on the trigger as she waited for it to get within range.   
By the time it was in range, she could see the people inside of the vehicle: one on his phone, a couple other chatting, the driver, and one watching the road. Five targets. Five grand each. Or to be precise: one target, four collateral, and the money divided to five thousand each. Money was the only true morality, she found.  
She shot the man in the passenger seat first, and then the driver. Ejecting the shells, she resighted on the three men in the back.   
One.  
Eject. Resight. Time is running out.  
Two.  
Eject. Resight. The jeep is out of control. It will flip soon. The last man is panicking.  
Three.  
Moran smirked as the last man slumped over just as the jeep hit a boulder and came to a violent stop. She chambered her last round and sighted on the gas tank. One last good shot and-

She shook her head to both get the stray hair out of her eye and try to clear the fuzziness from it. She returned the glares from the men standing above her with equal bitterness. Her head hurt from the bludgeoning it had received after they snuck up on her and knocked her out, and she didn’t have control of this situation.  
“doesn’t feel right to bring her back to camp.”  
“yeah. We know Mommy dearest would just get in the way.” He kicked her in the side again.  
She curled up and bit back her groan, not trying to speak around the gag.  
“We could just leave her here.”  
“what and make it obvious what happened? No. we have to make sure this is done.” The leader of the group pulled out his pistol.  
She didn’t blink, just staring straight back at him.  
“Wait – we aren’t just going to kill her ourselves!”  
“Why not?”  
“It would make us just as bad as she is.”  
“she’s a traitor – she’s the enemy now.”  
“and we don’t kill captured enemies either.”  
She rolled her eyes. This was how she died – bickered over by incompetents.  
The men were silent for a moment, looking at each other uncertainly.  
“we…I mean. We aren’t the only people’s she’s killed. The other.. I mean…”  
“we could sell her to the other side.” The leader caught on, sounding relieved.  
She breathed through her nose.  
“yeah, that would work. They’ll take care of her. Give her to the right guys and there won’t be any talk of trading prisoners. MIA.”  
“she’s a sniper. No one cares about them.”  
“right. No one cares.”  
They looked down at her for a moment more, and then one of them lifted her own rifle and brought it down against her head and everything went dark again.

She was in a moving vehicle when she came too again, and the blurriness took longer to leave her eyes when she opened them. Dumped unceremoniously on the floor of the jeep she had driven out with, she resisted the urge to shift her weight and remove her hands from beneath her. Breathing through her nose, she started working her hands around, slowly working on the rope binding her. She had barely started when the vehicle started slowing down.  
She gasped as she was thrown out of the back of her jeep as it drove past a camp. She closed her eyes tightly as she rolled through the sand to a stop.  
There was silence as the truck drove off, and then afghani voices started talking over her.  
“What is this?”  
“who is this?”  
“Is that-“  
“It can’t be.”  
“It’s colonel Moran!”  
She squinted up at the sunny sky as several heads came together above her.  
“…what do we do with her now?”  
“she has been giftwrapped for us, yes?”  
She started wriggling her hands fast, twisting her hands in the ropes behind her back and using the sweat to start slipping her bonds.  
“we do away with her, then untie her and dump her somewhere. It was part of war.”  
She held her breath as one of the afghanis pulled out a pistol. Finally wrenching on hand free she grabbed his ankle and jerked it out from beneath him. Grabbing his pistol from his hand, she shot the man beside him that had also reached for his gun. Someone kicked her in the side and another man kicked her hand and she dropped the gun.   
She kicked out. Someone kicked back. She pulled someone down and used someone else to get to her feet. There were shouts ringing out. People were running. She grabbed a gun and shot three more people, looking around the yard quickly. There were jeeps in the shade, and she breathed a sigh of relief and started making her way towards the vehicles.  
Fire. Pain in her side. Pain reaching deep into her.   
She couldn’t stop to think of it. There was someone else. Grab his knife. Slit his throat. Don’t think. Just do.  
Everything was red, and her head hurt.   
She wiped the blood out of her eyes and jerked the gag out of her mouth as she did so. Turning, she fired into the group of people following her.  
Two men went down and she finally reached the vehicles.  
Keys. She just had to get the keys. Where would they keep the keys?  
Breathing was getting harder. Her side didn’t hurt as much.  
Fuck.  
Focus.   
Someone grabbed her arm and she shoved the gun up beneath his chin and pulled the trigger. She caught his gun as he went down and shot the man behind him.  
She was missing the headshots. She shouldn’t be missing the headshots. Why was it so red?  
Center mass. Focus on the chests. Do damage. Just get out of here.  
She yanked out the ignition and grabbed the wires, fiddling with them with one hand while she fired the gun with the other.  
“Come on, come on – fuck you start!”  
She threw the empty gun down and grabbed the knife she must have tossed into the seat beside her. She didn’t remember that, but she had it – and there! It started!  
She dropped the knife back onto the seat and threw the jeep into gear, slamming down the accelerator and speeding out of the camp.  
She was breathing heavily, and she blinked her eyes to try to get the blood to get out of her vision. She touched a hand gingerly to her side and winced as she felt a hole there.  
Not good. That was…not good.  
She could see dust rising from the road ahead of her.  
That also wasn’t good. They couldn’t reach the camp.   
She cursed again, wishing she still had her rifle. Then it would be an easy fix: find a hill, and take aim.  
This was the messier way.  
The riskier way.  
She pressed a hand to her side and pushed the vehicle to go faster.  
Three men. One vehicle. A jeep. Lighter than hers, but also slower. She had a chance to catch up.  
She jerked the steering wheel and drove off the road.  
Cut them off. The road made that big loop – she could cut it off. They weren’t expecting anything. They wouldn’t be hurrying.  
Running out of time. She was running out of time. She wiped the blood out of her eyes.  
No gun. She didn’t have a gun. Just a knife. She’d have to crash their jeep, fight them hand to hand while being concussed and seriously injured.  
She upshifted.  
No thinking. Just doing. She didn’t have a choice.  
She jerked the vehicle back on the road, heading back in the direction she had come from. It was a risk: they might have already passed by the cut off and be headed back towards camp. She wouldn’t have time to catch up if she was wrong.  
She bared her teeth in a sort of smile when she saw the dust rise ahead of her.  
She sped up, heading straight towards the jeep.  
She was nearly thrown through the windshield when they collided, and only her grasp on the steering wheel kept her in her seat. Moran stumbled out of the vehicle, clutching her knife. There was a gunshot, but it went wide and she gathered herself and ran towards the jeep before its inhabitants could regroup.  
She drove her knife through the eye of the man in the passenger seat before grabbing his gun.  
One.  
Keep breathing. Safety off. Sight – no. can’t sight. Center mass. Double tap. Just stop them: can finish them later.  
Two.  
Blood is supposed to be red – why is everything black?  
There were hands on hers, wrestling for the gun and she punched ahead of her. Her hand glanced off, but the cursing was enough to count that as a hit. She pulled the trigger and prayed it hit.  
Three.  
She stumbled back, collapsing against the open door of the jeep. The pistol hung limply from her fingers and she stared blindly out at a rapidly darkening road.  
So cold…  
She collapsed to the ground, still leaning against the open door.  
There were worse ways to die. Taking out those who betrayed her was at least a satisfying end, if an ignoble one.  
She let the gun go as the darkness finally took over.

she blinked. And then blinked again. She lifted a hand to rub the fuzz from her eyes, and stopped when she felt an IV pull from it. She frowned and blinked rapidly.   
She looked around the white room, listening to the beeping get clearer. There was the steady hiss of the ventilator beside her somewhere, and she finally lifted her hand and felt the mask over her face.  
Hospital. She was in a hospital.  
She grit her teeth and used the railing of the bed to pull herself upright.  
No cuffs. She glanced at the door of the private room. No guards.  
She scooted forward to the end of the bed and snagged her chart. Letting her breath out, she collapsed back onto the bed and closed her eyes.  
Rest. Just for a moment. Breathe.  
She opened her eyes again and opened her chart, scanning over it.  
Multiple GSWs to the torso and extremities. Most entry wounds on the front. One from the back. Collapsed lung. Broken ribs. Head wound. Broken arm. Broken nose. Concussion. Severe blood loss.   
“ah. You’re awake.”  
She looked up at the doctor entering the room.  
“dr. Watson. I oversaw your surgery. How are you feeling?”  
She shrugged, ignoring the twinge of pain.  
“I wouldn’t move too much. Apparently, you were involved in a vehicle collision before a shoot out.” He looked for a reaction.  
Moran didn’t blink.  
He sighed and took the chart back, looking over the monitors.   
She reached up to pull her oxygen mask down. “…the others?”  
“You were the only one to survive. The…attacker was very…thorough.”  
She replaced the mask and laid back.  
“Yes. You came in here in terrible shape. Fairly drenched in blood.”  
She went back to looking at the ceiling.  
“If you remain stable for the next week, you will be back on British soil before you realise.”  
She looked back at him. When he didn’t elaborate, she pulled down her mask again. “What?”  
“You are being discharged. Insubordination.” He smiled flatly. “there was a...agreement made.”  
“and if I say no?”  
“It is for the best, Colonel Moran. For your...physical health, hm?”  
She slowly replaced the mask and let her eyes close.  
So that was how it was going to go down.

****  
She leaned on the cane as she stepped out of the unloading gate, looking down on her feet. She hated the cane as a sign of weakness, but when threatened with a wheelchair she had decided to resign herself. Something that, in hindsight, she was glad for. Her legs had been relatively uninjured from the disaster, but her energy still hadn’t recovered.  
Moran pressed a hand gingerly to her ribs and moved out of the flow of traffic.  
“Siobhan? Siobhan!” a man’s voice called out, coming closer.  
She closed her eyes and tucked her hair behind her ear.  
“Oh, it’s been too long, dearie. The house has been positively silent, what with You and Davie joining the military and anna always away on some business or another – it’s good you’re home.”  
“hello, father.” She answered shortly.  
“You look like a right mess – didn’t you bring anything home?” he asked when she started walking toward the exit.  
“Only thing I would have brought was my rifle.”  
“Can’t see how you did it, being a sniper… I could barely stomach being a medic back in the war.”  
“Yes, father.”  
“You had better get cleaned up before your mother sees you – you know she will end up having a fit. Or will want to at least. I don’t suppose you met a bloke while you were over there?”  
“No.”  
“ah. A shame that is. Would have made it easier for you. I’m just glad you’re home safe where you belong.” He said sincerely.  
She nodded, and her hair fell forward into her face again.  
He had brought the sedan to the airport, and he closed the door on her before going around to the driver’s side and getting in to start it up. The ride back to the house was a quiet one on her part, looking out the window while her father talked about this person or that place and tried to bring her up to date on everything that had happened in the last four years she had been gone.  
She didn’t pay him much mind, watching the city turn into suburb turn into countryside again and then they pulled up to a modest estate. Dogs were barking somewhere and she got out of the car and looked up at her family’s house.  
“…been working on the garden a bit – your mother finally agreed that it could look less severe.”  
She didn’t respond, making her way slowly up the steps while her father grabbed her duffle bag.  
“Are you hungry?”  
“No. Just a shower and a bed.”  
“I think we can provide that.” He smiled.

Siobhan walked into the dinning room, pushing her wet hair out of her face.  
Her mother watched her in disapproval, looking over her eldest daughter’s threadbare pyjamas.   
“good morning, sweetie.” Her father said, pulling out a chair for her.  
She nodded at him and sat down, leaning her cane against the table.  
Her mother waited a moment, and then presed her lips together. “…I understand you have been through a lot, but surely you can brush off your manners.”  
“Ja, fuher.”  
Her mother glared at her.  
“we are glad you are home.” Her father interjected.   
“Of course we are. It was a mistake to let you go in the first place. Have you though about what you are doing next?”  
She viciously stabbed her sausage link. “why no. somewhere in between the horrors of war and recovering from nearly dying, I forgot to plan for ‘accommodating an overbearing mother’ into my schedule.”  
“That is uncalled for. I simply want what is best for you.”  
“No. You want to groom me to take your place.”  
“You are my eldest child – it is your birthplace.”  
“Can we just eat breakfast? You live your life, I’ll live mine, and we cdan pretend I’m not here.”  
“if you don’t want to live here, just say so.” She snapped.  
“Fine. I will.” She shoved her chair back from the table. “have a great life.”  
“Siobhan-“ her father called,but she didn’t turn back, and he didn’t come after her.  
Moran slammed the dining room door behind her, and leaned against it for a moment, closing her eyes. She breathed in deeply through her nose and straightened.   
Walking away from the dining room, she pulled out her phone and opened the callender, checking the doctor’s appointments itemized in it. She grimaced, flexing her hand on the head of her cane. Closing out the calender, she opened the search engine and called up a cab service as she walked back to her room.  
First order of business: get out of the manor. After that she could worry about where to stay and what to do.

She considered going to a hotel and getting settled there first, but after a few minutes directed the cabbie to the nearest pub. She could find a place to stay later – first she needed a stiff drink. Or three.  
“Mum. I don’t appreciate you stepping in. I can handle my own life. Thanks, but no.” She glared at the glass in her hand before throwing it back. She rolled a cigarette in her hand and shoved in in her pocket at the bartenders pointed look. “yeah, yeah – I know.” She held her glass out. “give me another.”  
He glanced at the clock and sighed, but obliged her.  
“I’ll buy you the next one.”  
She didn’t look over at the woman who somehow lounged on the barstool next to her. “thanks. I got this.”  
“Call it a favour then.”  
“don’t do favours.”  
“But I do.” She waved the bartender over. “another one for the lady and…well, surprise me darling. Something sweet.”  
Moran rolled her eyes and focused on ignoring the woman. Her phone dinged in her pocket, and she pulled it out only to glare when she recognized her mother’s number. She shoved it back and drained her glass.  
“Oh, don’t brood so much. You’ll get wrinkles.”  
“does that mean you will bugger off?”  
The newcomer smiled at the barteneder and accepted her drink, something pink with some green garnish. Moran grimaced and accepted her whiskey refill.  
“You really should look into doing something.”  
“what do you care.”  
“Call me a…concerned citizen.”  
She snorted. “Sure. I’ve got enough bastards nosing in where they aren’t wanted.” She finally twisted to look at the woman sitting beside her. Her hand stopped in the way of lifting her glass to her mouth and she looked the woman over from head to foot.  
The lady smirked and demurely crossed her ankles, letting her pencil skirt ride up a little further past her knees. She didn’t wear a blazer, but her blouse was obviously silk, and she had a dark scarf tied at the collar. A few strands of hair escaped from behind her ear and fell infront of her face, and Moran wanted to reach out and tuck them back.  
“my name is Jamie, darling.”  
“Is that so.” She murmured, slopping sipping her whiskey and trying to replace the heat in her stomach with a more familiar burn.  
“Take a picture, it will last longer.” She said dismissively, turning away to sip her cocktail.  
She raised an eyebrow. “…what are you doing in a place like this?” she looked around the barely reputable pub she had set up shop in.  
“would you believe I was shopping?” she finally stopped smiling.  
“Not an idiot.”  
“Oh really? You are certainly acting like it.”  
“what do you care.”  
“I am invested at this point.”  
“and I have enough people telling me how to run my life.”  
“then what is one more?”  
She glared at the well-dressed woman. Shaking her head, she drained her glass again. “thanks for the drink. I won’t pay you back.” Moran slid off her stool and turned to leave.  
Jamie reached out and snagged her arm. “I’m not-“ she broke off as Moran’s hand wrapped around her throat.  
There was silence in the pub as Moran loomed over the smaller woman. “…listen bitch. I don’t know you. You don’t know me. I’m leaving, you do whatever the hell you want, and we go our separate ways, yes?”  
Jamie was breathing heavily, pushed back against the bar. She bit her lip and looked into Moran’s eyes. Suddenly, she pulled Moran’s head down and kissed her.  
Moran didn’t react for a moment, and then wrapped her hand through Jamie’s hair and yanked her back. “what the…”  
They both panted for a moment.  
“My place?”  
“Your place,” Moran agreed, roughly pulling her off the stool and towards the door.

Moran pulled out a cigarette and lit it up when they got outside the pub. Inhaling, she watched the smaller woman.  
Jamie shifted the scarf around her neck and met Moran’s gaze easily even as the blonde loomed over her. “What should I call you, darling?”  
“Moran.”  
“I think we should be on first name basis if we are going to do this.”  
What the hell. “Siobhan.”  
“A pleasure to meet you, Siobhan.” She ran her tongue over her lips and let her eyes drift over her body.  
Moran straightened, taking another drag and waving down a cab. “thirty-four Finchely Road.”   
Jamie slid into the cab ahead of Moran, pulling out the bills to pay for the cab.  
“hey now-“  
“You’ll repay me tonight.” She promised.  
She narrowed her eyes.  
“you’ll have to put that out, miss.”  
She glared at the cabbie, and then ground the cigarette out against her wrist. “it’s out. Go.”  
He shrugged and pulled away from the curb.  
Moran looked out the window, and jerked her eyes back ahead of her in surprise when Jamie suddenly shifted to straddle her waist. She instinctively put her hands on the smaller woman’s waist as she moved her hands slowly up Moran’s chest before using them to bracket her head in against the back of the seat. Leaning in, she licked up the side of Moran’s face.   
Siobhan growled and pulled her closer. “Damn it…”  
She pouted. “is someone cranky?” she traced a nail down Moran’s face. “that’s alright. I know how you can make me feel better.” She leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I hope for your sake that you got enough sleep. I don’t plan on letting you go in any reasonable time, Sebby.”  
“Is that so?”  
She bit her earlobe and hummed.  
Moran buried her nose in her neck and breathed in, closing her eyes. Reaching up, she tugged on the end of the scarf and slowly undid the loose tie.   
“I will tie you down and make you scream, baby… or maybe I will make you make me scream, and deny you any satisfaction. Leave you wet and wanting.”  
She undid the top buttons of the blouse and kissed Jamie’s throat. sHe hummed deep in her throat, rubbing slow circles on her waist with her other hand while Jamie pulled her blonde hair loose and let it down. She hissed when the other woman wrapped her hand in her hair and jerked her head back to look towards the roof of the car.  
“Aren’t you just…exquisite.” She purred. She gently traced the potmark scars on Moran’s face and kissed the long one that went across her face.   
Moran didn’t move, closing her eyes and pulling Jamie’s hips closer. She breathed through her nose, savouring the smell of the lady’s perfume.   
“Such a good dog… you know how to take orders don’t you? You’ll be a good girl for mommy.”  
She didn’t think too long about the heat in her stomach at jamie’s low words. “never was good at taking orders.”  
“You’ll take orders from me.” She nibbled the skin on Moran’s jawline. “I don’t like being disobeyed.”  
“Ever tried it?” she pulled against Jamie’s grip in her hair and roughly kissed her, chewing on her bottom lip.  
“I don’t take orders.”  
“neither do I. Discharged for insubordination.”  
“Is that so.”  
“hey. Hey!” the cabbie called back. “We’re at your destination.”  
Jamie giggled and rolled off moran’s lap back into her own seat.   
Moran blinked for a moment, and then got out of the cab, holding her hand out to h elp the elegant woman out of the back of the cab.  
Jame smiled up at her, and walked up the steps to the apartment, unlocking the door and turning to face Siobhan. She grabbed the front of her shirt and walked backwards into the flat, pulling Moran with her. “Now you’re mine.” She purred.  
Siobhan kicked the door shut behind her and started undoing the buttons on the other’s blouse. “Whatever you say.”  
Jamie shimmied out of her skirt while Moran pushed the blouse off her shoulders. “I could just eat your up…” she ran her hands over Moran’s toned chest.  
She smirked and then lifted the smaller woman up and slammed her against the wall. “Now that sounds all well and good,” she growled. “But you’re a little too small to be on top.”  
Jamie gasped, and her dark eyes got darker with lust. She lunged forward and wrapped her legs around siobhan’s waist, kissing her in an almost vicious mashing of lips and teeth.  
“Now we’re talking,” Moran muttered.

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first part to the first book of my trilogy following Sebastian Moran's relationship with Moriarty. Both chracters are genderbent and this will be a lesbian story. Lots of hurt, comfort, action, frustration, angst, and silliness.
> 
> Basically, I need people to read and comment and review this the same way they would if i was posting it as fanfiction. to do so, you need to be at least 18 years old, and must have an email account that you are willing to share with me. I would send you an update each week with all that I had gotten around to writing, and it would basically be like reading fanfiction
> 
> Stream-of-grace on tumblr.


End file.
